


In the dark

by Trystero



Category: Mad Max Series (Movies), Mad Max: Fury Road
Genre: F/M, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-30
Updated: 2015-06-06
Packaged: 2018-04-01 23:29:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4038739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trystero/pseuds/Trystero
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Furiosa needs to sleep. For that, she needs to relax. And for that, she needs Nux.<br/>Max is just a bonus.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



An unholy mixture of storm clouds and radioactive dust blanketed the desert, making it too dark to drive. The sand dunes had to be approached at just the right angle, and just the right velocity, or the rig became embedded in the treacherously fine sand. They had already had to dig it out twice.

Furiosa lay on the back seat of the driver’s cab, eyes open, staring sightlessly into the pitch black. She desperately needed sleep, it had been a shattering day and would be even worse tomorrow. Their escape from the Citadel was only just beginning. But sleep hid from her, and every little sound was amplified by the darkness. 

Nux’s breaths rasped just below her on the floor. He had fallen asleep the moment they had settled down – as far as he was concerned today had been wonderful, full of brutal action of the best kind, the kind he was directly involved in. He slept the satisfied sleep of the cat who’d spent a lovely day terrorizing mice.

Furiosa heard Max shift uncomfortably in the front seat. He was a deeply strange man. Not like any she’d met before. A lone unit, which was far too dangerous in this destroyed world. No one survived alone. You joined a faction and gave your service and devotion to its warlord in return for water and food, or you died in the wasteland.

Immortan Joe wasn’t a good man by any stretch, but it made no real difference, because none of them were. Furiosa had worked for him because it was either him or some other shit just like him. There was nowhere else to go. Except the Green Place, and she didn’t know where that was. For a long time, not knowing whether to go north, east, south or west had stopped her from trying. But then a dream had come to her, a vivid dream in hallucinatory yellows and reds, that when she woke up she knew was not a dream but a memory. It was the first glimpse she’d had of the Citadel as they brought her there, when she was a captured child. And then, she knew exactly which direction to go.

Max shifted again, the leather of his jacket creaking softly.

The fingers of Furiosa’s left hand hurt. They weren’t there anymore, hadn’t been for years, but they still hurt sometimes.

This was no good. She must get some sleep, or she would be useless tomorrow. She needed to release some tension.

Furiosa let her right hand slip down, to feel Nux. She felt his bare chest, rising and falling. She gently traced the branding scars on his chest, the engine block design, a mark given only to the best mechanics amongst the Warboys. Nux didn’t awaken, his wheezy breathing stayed slow and even. Furiosa’s fingers drifted lower, over his stomach, under his belt, down to the hair below, and further down still. Using soft strokes, she teased him to stiffness. 

Nux was awake now, but said nothing and didn’t move. As a war rig driver, she was more senior than him, and he wasn’t allowed to touch her, but she had turned her back on Immortan Joe and so had he, so now where did anyone stand? Was there even a hierarchy anymore? Nux didn’t know, so he decided to let whatever would happen, happen. He could make his mind up about it afterwards.

As quietly as she could, Furiosa propped herself up and shimmied her pants down, then lowered herself down to straddle Nux’s narrow hips.

Nux couldn’t see what she was doing but he could sure as hell feel it. He pushed down his overalls to free himself, and couldn’t help letting out a gasp of pleasure as Furiosa eased herself down onto his length.

If Furiosa had been paying attention to Max, she would have noticed that he had stopped shifting and gone very quiet, but her attention was fully on Nux and the feelings he was arousing between her legs. She moved her hips against his, her fingers at their apex, moving in concert. Nux was gaining in excitement. Every time she moved up, he tried to thrust up into her. He was taking it too fast, and she ground down into him hard, trying to restrict his movement, whilst rubbing urgently on her swelling clit.

A hand touched the back of her head unexpectedly and she drew a sharp breath. It wasn’t Nux’s hand, those were firmly gripping her breasts. It was Max.

The warm hand stayed on the back of her head and another stroked her face, intended as a caress despite the rough calloused skin scratching her cheek. She resumed moving slowing up and down on Nux. Max’s lips touched hers, and she kissed him lightly, in return for which he kissed her hard. He kissed like a drowning man, desperate and reckless, pulling her soft mouth to his with both hands, stubble pricking her skin.

As suddenly as he started, he left off. She resumed rubbing her clit, timing her movements with Nux’s just right, till not much more of this and she would climax, then she could finally sleep.

Max’s hands found her head again, and this time they had company. His erection, long and thick, pressed against her mouth, and she willingly gave him admittance. He tasted of sexual excitement already. She caressed him with her tongue, and let him move deeper in, hearing a sigh of pleasure come from above as he pulled all the way out, then pushed in again.

Below her, Nux was panting too, rolling her nipples between his fingers. She lifted her hips slightly to give him more space to move. He immediately utilised it, thrusting up into her as hard and fast as he could. She rubbed her clit in circles, and sucked on Max’s length, feeling it throb in her mouth. He wouldn’t last much longer either.

The first spurt into her mouth was the trigger. As Max came, filling her mouth with his sweet, hot liquid, she hit her own climax, trembling and feeling a strange deafness come over her as all her blood rushed wildly through her veins.

Nux abruptly went soft. Her uncontrolled clenching had caused him to climax too, and she hadn’t even noticed. No matter, she was feeling relaxed and sleepy now. Both men tried to kiss her as she lay back down on the back seat. 

She pushed them away. Tomorrow would be a big day, a make-or-break day.

She went to sleep.


	2. In dim light.

A little before dawn the next morning Furiosa woke, aching all over, but mentally alert. Nux was a useful person to have around, not least as a sleep aid, she thought.

Nux himself was sleeping like a baby, curled up in a foetal position on the floor of the rig’s cabin. Max was slumped in the front passenger seat, his feet up on the dashboard.

Furiosa poked Nux with a toe. He didn’t wake up. She climbed over him into the front of the cab and settled into the driver’s seat. 1-2-1-red-black and go. The engine rumbled into life, and the rig eased into motion. 

Next to her, Max came to life too, but only for long enough to sit up, look at Furiosa’s face for a while, then go horizontal again, this time with his head in her lap, facing her. She had a spiky metal clasp in front of his nose. He pushed it up and sideways, out of the way, nestled his face into her lower abdomen and went back to sleep.

The storm was gone and the sky was wide and blue, a serene-looking sky, oblivious to the destruction and misery on the land below it. Furiosa drove fast but carefully, and the war rig made good time. She kept her eye on the mirrors, but there seemed to be no one in their wake. Yet.

About an hour later, Nux woke up, started to climb into the front, and paused when he saw Max’s face in Furiosa’s crotch. He looked at Furiosa. She glanced back at him, then went back to watching the road. If an empty desert could be called a road. Nux stayed in the back, but leaned forward so his face was just behind Furiosa’s ear.

So close, he could smell her skin and hair. She smelled good. Was last night a one-off? Or was that the way it would be, now. Was he allowed to touch her, unbidden? Their eyes met in the rear-vision mirror. He couldn’t interpret her expression, exactly, but it wasn’t a warning look. More like interest. Curiosity, even.

Without taking his intent gaze from hers, he slowly and deliberately moved his mouth to the hairline behind her ears, and kissed her, leaving his lips resting lightly against her skin, breathing in the intoxicating scent. Her expression didn’t change, but her breathing did, and he saw it. He kissed her again, then again. He licked the rim of her ear and took the lobe into his mouth, kneading it with his tongue.

The pleasure was too much. Furiosa blinked a fraction too slowly, and misjudged a dip in the road, causing a bad jolt to shudder through the rig’s overloaded suspension. No damage occurred, but Nux and Furiosa both took its meaning. No more sexing up the driver, that was a foolishly dangerous game.

The jolt woke Max up, and he sat up, rubbing his eyes then his whole face. He looked wrecked. Furiosa handed him a small flask of water, which he accepted with a grateful grunt.

Nux stared jealously at the back of Max’s head. His blood-bag should be sitting in the back seat, not him. He, Nux, should be up the front, at Furiosa’s side. He would be her loyal dog. Max was a wanderer, a stranger to their society. Not loyal. Not a Warboy. Competent at driving and weapon-handling, true, and admittedly damn good to have around in a fight, but not an appropriate consort for an Imperator.

Max wasn’t thinking anything, except for how much he hurt all over. Not a single part of him failed to ache or sting, mostly both. The gunshot wound in his left leg, where Bubba Zanetti had shot him all those years ago, felt like it was fresh. Goddamn Bubba Zanetti. The memory of him was even more painful than the wound. Max had thought the Toecutter was his prime enemy. The Toecutter ran the gang of nomad scoot-jockeys, or so it appeared. But appearances can be deceiving, Max had learned too late. It had turned out to be Zanetti all along, the evil little whisper in the Toecutter’s ear. And the price for his naivety had been heavy indeed. Jessie. Sprog. Gone in the blink of an eye, the roar of an engine.

They drove all day, then, in the late afternoon, there were tire tracks in the sand ahead. Twisting and turning, going no obvious direction in particular. After a few more minutes a tower came into sight, built on a low concrete structure that looked like the entrance to a bunker. There was a body in a cage dangling from the top of the tower. As the war rig drew close and stopped, the body drew up and screamed. It was a woman, naked and frantic.  
“Help! Help me! Please!”

Furiosa didn’t move. Max shook his head once. “That’s a trap,” he said with certainty.

And a trap it was, but not the kind that they were expecting. It was a defensive trap, not offensive. The occupants of the bunker, once they showed themselves, turned out to be Furiosa’s tribe, the one she had been snatched from as a child, an all-female tribe, elderly now. They embraced Furiosa and cried. They welcomed Furiosa’s human cargo, the four wives, gingerly emerging from the fortified tank of the war rig. They shot mistrustful looks at Max and Nux, but allowed them into the bunker all the same. Anyone trusted by Furiosa would be given the benefit of the doubt.

The bunker was an old bomb shelter, comprising a wide central hall, with small rooms lining the sides. The hall was the living and food preparation area. One of the small rooms was a toilet, the others were private sleeping rooms which the women shared two each. There were no spare rooms, but the women happily moved out of two rooms, to allow the four wives to cram together to sleep on one mattress in one, and Max, Nux and Furiosa to take the other.

The walls were thick concrete, soundproof and cold. The only light in the room was from an ancient kerosene lamp, its blackened glass containing a little blue flame slowly licking alcohol from its wick.

The mattress was spacious for one, fine for two, a squeeze for three. Max lay down on the floor without being told, just grateful to rest his bruised body.

Furiosa removed her armour, and lay down on the mattress on her back, resting her head on her raised arms. She yawned, and closed her eyes. To lie in a protected, silent room, amongst friends, and on a soft mattress – what incredible luxury.

Nux stood, not sure what to do. Was he allowed to lie next to Furiosa? He sure as hell wanted to. And he wanted to make sure there was not enough room for Max to move over there either.

Furiosa opened her eyes. She looked at Nux. Nux looked at her. She gestured for him to take off his clothing. He obeyed, eyes bright and body excited. She gestured for him to join her. He didn’t need to be told twice.

The room felt cold and alien to Nux, but Furiosa was warm, smooth, lovely to touch. And a little bit familiar. He had touched her last night, to delightful effect. He wanted to pleasure her again now, offer her everything she wanted, everything he had.

Snuggling close to her, he kissed her neck, and shivered with desire when she turned to kiss him back.  
“In the halls of Valhalla,” he breathed, speaking to himself. He had died and gone to Valhalla. It was the only explanation. His hands reverently explored her body; then her hand pulled him onto her. She opened her legs, and guided his massive erection into her hot, moist depth.  
“I live, I die, I live again,” whispered Nux, in ecstasy, beginning to thrust.

On the concrete floor, Max felt cold, uncomfortable and faintly annoyed. Why was he even here? With these insane people, whose implausible mission had nothing to do with him. Their escape coincidentally served his interest, which at the time was also Escape At Any Cost. They had succeeded, against considerable odds. As far as he was concerned, his association with them was no longer required.

Yet... as he listened to Furiosa’s sexually-charged breathing, and the thumping of Nux servicing her needs, he identified the source of his annoyance as not why-am-i-here, but why-am-I-not-there. Simple solution. He got up, stripped, and arbitrarily shoved Nux off her. 

Furiosa raised an eyebrow. Her legs were still open. Max stood over her, his stiffened phallus making a grotesquely large shadow on the wall next to them. He was about to plunge when Nux came at him. The two men tumbled over backwards, Max in a headlock, Nux trying to punch the side of his head.

Furiosa sighed. She closed her eyes again and moved her hand between her legs. Now it was her turn to try to ignore the sounds of thumping.


	3. Not seeing is believing.

Some hours later Furiosa awoke, in pitch darkness. She didn’t know where she was for a moment, then remembered. She was with her childhood tribe, safe in their bunker, far away from the citadel. She had four of the five wives under her protection. She didn’t dwell on the loss of the fifth – no point. No, there was something more immediate to dwell on. 

She’d fallen asleep while the men were still tussling, but sometime during the night Nux and Max had both crawled into her bed, one on each side, she serving both as incitement and barrier for their testosterone-fueled aggression towards each other. 

They weren’t quite touching her, but they were very close. Furiosa could feel their body heat. They were both noisy breathers; Max heavy, each breath sounding like exasperation. Nux rasped and gurgled as though he had lungfuls of dust and phlegm. Warboys typically didn’t live long. Immortan Joe liked it that way – no one to challenge his rule. The warboys were all his sons, but none of them had any access to him, let alone affection from him. They were just used as tools to support Joe’s machine, till they expired.

Nux and the other warboys were unloved sons, with only their religion to sate their hearts. They feared nothing because they had nothing to lose, other than their lives which they had no understanding of the value of – Joe had taken care of that, instilling in them a fervent belief that they were eternal beings, instantly reincarnating if, or more often when, their current body died.

Thus, the warboys themselves were not unhappy, but viewed from the outside it was horribly sad. Although not as appalling as what happened to Joe’s daughters.

That was why Furiosa had taken away Joe’s wives. Not because Joe was a terrible husband, which of course he was. No, it was because he was a terrible father.

Feeling sorrow for Nux, she leaned over and gently kissed him.

On the other side of her, Max was dreaming of Jessie. Jessie smiling, laughing, playing sultry sounds on the saxophone. Jessie’s warm body next to him at night. Jessie’s soft lips, her cute breasts, her round hips, and that sweet spot between them. That spot he like to lick, and suck, and delve his tongue and fingers as far into as they would go. So hot inside, and so moist. So ready to welcome him in, squeeze him and tease him till he exploded.

Furiosa felt Max shift, and his breathing go quieter.

Max’s fingers found Jessie’s hip bone, and navigated slowly from there, over the sensitive skin of her belly, to the place they were looking for, already wet with anticipation. His fingers slipped down, between her hidden lips, sliding over her clit and back again, making her gasp involuntarily.

She stayed still, lying on her back, as Max moved closer. His rough cheek touched her breast, then his hot mouth took in her nipple, using his skilful tongue to massage it to stiffness.

Jessie. God how he loved to fuck her. He knew that this wasn’t her, but in the dark, it was a close enough approximation. He could almost believe it was her nipple he was sucking. Jessie’s tight, moist cunt his hand was dipping into. Her swollen clit his thumb was stroking.

His erection was pressing into her thigh. Furiosa reached down and closed her hand around it, holding it tight, loving the pulsing sensation of blood pumping within it. Then she let go, felt around till she found Nux’s cock, and held that, feeling it awaken and come beautifully to life, stiffening in her grip.

Though he could not see what Max was doing, Nux, in a magical act of symmetry, instinctively had the same idea. His scarred mouth closed on Furiosa’s other breast, and he sucked intently, as though hoping to obtain milk. His hand went to caress her, and found another already there. But after a bit of experimenting, he found there was room enough for two sets of fingers to slip in and out of that warm, soft, slippery nirvana. Not being able to see each other in the darkness, it was easier for them to put aside their differences.

Furiosa lay between them, her hand intermittently stroking and clenching Nux's large, hard cock as the two men paid tribute to her with fingers and tongues. 

It was good. Damn good. But after a while she needed more. She needed them inside her.

Which way to face? There’d be time to try it both ways. For a start, Max would do. She turned on her side, facing Max, and raised her thigh, guiding his cock into her interior. He was big, but she was so wet it slid in smoothly, all pleasure, no pain.

Behind her, Nux wanted in on the action. He pushed against her ass. Furiosa thought about it for a second, and decided that was another thing they could do later. For now, she wanted both men in one place and one place only. She reached back and took hold of his erection, directing him into the opening already occupied by Max. Nux took her meaning. He propped himself up on one elbow, for a better angle, and pushed hard, feeling deep satisfaction as his cock slowly penetrated her, moving further and further in, till he was crammed in her, up against Max’s painfully hard cock.

Max was kissing Furiosa. It was definitely Furiosa now, not Jessie. Jessie didn’t fuck two men at once. But Furiosa did, and that was ok with him. The tightness was exquisite, and the sensations they created when they rammed into her in alternating thrusts were thrilling.

Together, the road warrior and the warboy fucked their muse into a moaning, trembling oblivion.


End file.
